The Day that I was Abducted

It was November of 1998 and I was just leaving my home on the way to work. The Crackerbarrel was my weekend job where I would wrap holiday gift for customers in the gift shop section of the store. It was menial, low level work compared to my real job but it was easy enough and supplement my income like I promised my wife I would do so I thought it all for the best. What did it matter if I got less rest on the weekends now than I was used to? It was all for the greater good.

I drove through the Lansing city streets until I got to the streetlight on the corner of Washington and St. Joe. My driving over the induction coil must have triggered something because at that point that the lights in all the different directions changed to red simultaneously. I slammed on the breaks. It was all I could do to keep from flying into the intersection with my forward momentum. If I had been going any faster I might have been flung into the path of another vehicle, good thing it was just a Suzuki Esteem.

Suddenly a remote device causes the visor on the driver’s side to pop open and a small black cell phone dropped into my lap. The phone was ringing and the display read “untraceable”. Not this again, I thought, as I flipped the unit open and clicked talk.

“Hello?”

“When the light turns green you are to drive to the parking structure on Capitol. The structure is closed but the booth is remotely activated and will be opened to you. Drive to the second floor of the parking structure and park next to a black Acura. The vehicle is unlocked. You are to get into the vehicle where you will await further instructions. You have been activated.”

My heart raced as I tried to determine what I would do next. I had seen this kind of thing before but it had been many years ago at band camp. I waited for the light to turn green and then I began driving, cautiously at first. Suddenly I peeled out like mad making an illegal left hand turn going westbound on St. Joe. I raced onto the highway reaching the mind blurring speed of 65 (hey it was an Esteem) before I was even off the entranceway. I zigged in and out of traffic in a desperate attempt to lose whatever force it was that was seeking to control my behavior. The phone rang again.

“You have disobeyed us Mexi. Do not make any further attempts to evade our efforts or we will be forced to terminate you. Desertion is not an option.”

It was at this point that I noticed a silver Mustang in my rearview mirror. The driver of this vehicle was definitely keyed in on me making no attempt to avoid detection as his vehicle dropped in directly behind me with what appeared to be laser-like precision. I had to think fast if I was going to get out of this situation. Suddenly I swerved the vehicle into the median and bounced the car violently in toward the oncoming highway lane. I drove toward an approaching dumptruck and my timing was still on as I hit the last bump with enough momentum and at just the right angle to send the vehicle airborn directly toward the oncoming vehicle. With catlike deftness I reached down and unfastened my seat belt just at the vehicles were making impact. I forced my body to go completely limp and allowed my mind to vast nothingness with a precision that I could have learned only in public school. The Esteem shattered on impact and I sailed through the open windshield flying safely above the accident. I crashed into some light shrubbery, then tucked and rolled for a near perfect landing. A cuticle was torn and I had grass and mud stains on my pants and elbows but I was no worse for the wear. I could only hope that my little stunt had escaped detection.

I bounded over the embankment and began sprinting toward the closest service station. I needed to make change for bus fare and I knew that if I could reach a bus stop on time I could still manage to arrive at work only fifteen minutes late. My integrity and the promise that I had made to my wife absolutely depended on it. As I entered the service station, however, my hopes were immediately dashed. The clerk behind the counter, a scruffy middle-eastern looking fellow, was just in the process of ending a telephone conversation. The small black cellphone that was was flashing in his hand was identical to mine.

“Teh Mexigogue”, he said. His expression belied the fact that he bore no ill will toward me but that it was also clear that he would brook no dispute. Clearly her was under duress. “You will use your phone to call in sick to work using the stomach flu as an excuse. You will do so now. Know that there is no escape.”

At that moment the front door to the service station bolted itself loudly behind me. The clerk picked up a Mossberg 500 pistol grip shotgun and leveled it directly at my chest. I didn’t know what that thing was filled with but with a model like that I was sure that even Skittles would sting like the bejesus. At this point I flipped open the phone and called my manager at the Crackerbarrel.

Immediately after ending the call I saw a bright light and then my whole world went black. The clerk had snuck up behind me and hit me with something heavy. When I came to I was tied up and being hustled into the back seat of a vehicle with blackened windows and a fictitious government license plate (I knew it was fictitious because real license plates aren’t made out of three hole punched college ruled binder paper). I was injected with some clear liquid and when I again awoke I was at The Point After Bar and Grill sitting across from my good friend Guy in a UNLV Jacket. There was a pitcher of beer on the table and just as I began to turn to gauge my chances of escaping, Guy cut me a look and flashed open his jacket revealing a handgun in a body holster. The unspoken message was clear and I began to drink.

The rest of the night was a blur as I was forced to drink, and then to holler at various hoochies, until eventually three or four pitchers of beer had been devoured. I may even have sang some karaoke.

I was eventually released and staggered into the house sometime around midnight. My wife jumped up in surprise and then darted over to check on me. Apparently she had been waiting up since I had not returned at the normal time. The look on her face quickly changed from relief to disgust however as she quickly caught scent of all the alcohol I had drank as it was emanating both from my breath and pores.

“Where have you been all this time? Look what condition you’re in! Where in the world have you been??”

“I was” – – I managed, having to slow my speech to avoid slurring my words. “I was at the bar.”

“The BAR? You were supposed to be at work! Did you even go to your job? What were you doing at the bar???”

“I didn’t want to go”, I managed weakly. “My friends. . . . My friends made me.”

“Oh RIGHT! Your FRIENDS made you go! I suppose Guy in the UNLV Jacket put a GUN to your head and made you DRINK THE NIGHT AWAY TOO!”

I shook my head in resigned disappointment. If only she knew the half of it.

3 Responses to “The Day that I was Abducted”

  1. Phelps says:

    You left out the part about the anal probe.

  2. mexi says:

    That wasn’t technically part of the story as it happened at the City Assessors office.

  3. Phelps says:

    I never heard of no abduction that didn’t have an anal probe in it.

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